wouldn't it be nice
by xfucktheglasses
Summary: Maybe in another lifetime. —Sakura, Hinata.


For **Emily.**

Merry late Christmas, pretty. Also this didn't come out like I was intending it to. Whatevs.

**wouldn't it be nice**

It doesn't take her by surprise.

She is a kunoichi and she was going to see war and bloodshed at some point in her life time. It came sooner, but with everything she's been through, Sakura takes it with a bat of her eye lashes. The day is bright and sunny when her uniform is dropped on the front porch of her house. Sakura takes it and fingers the material of her flak jacket.

Her goal had always been to wear one—not like this, but what can she do?

She dresses in front of her mirror, wrapping gauze around her chest and slipping the dark long-sleeved shirt over her small frame. She looks like a Jounin by the time she is done and Sakura fingers her shoulder length hair, allowing herself a moment of vanity and absolutely loving how she looked in uniform.

Sakura stuffs her new hitai-ate in the pocket of her flak jacket and walking down to the front door. She pauses as her parents surface from the kitchen, their eyes drinking in her image with pride in their eyes. Her mother approaches her and fingers her hair, smiles and demands she comes back alive—no room for argument, she expects her back for dinner.

Her father's chest swells with inexplicable pride and he grabs the necklace at the base of her throat and kisses it, his eyes telling her everything Sakura already knew.

She slides her boots on and leaves her home for the final time in what could be for months.

.

.

.

The village is being evacuated.

Konoha looks like a ghost town, buildings half-built and still so much space for growth—empty where it once had been full. Sakura walks through the solitary streets with her chin held high, staring at the world from under her red lashes. She's all black and green on alabaster skin—black boots, black skirt, black shirt and green vest and she feels like Konoha should have a good look on a proud kunoichi that was off to fight to keep the will of fire alive—to keep the damn world from falling apart.

She walks aimlessly, half searching for her friends and half just drinking in the image of her home.

She finds Hinata by chance.

The girl is walking ahead of her, hands clasped behind her and steps regretful. Her hair shines an indigo blue under the sun and the silky strands dance behind her with every step she takes.

Sakura catches up and links their arms, turning to look at her with jaded green eyes and a cracked smile.

Hinata is strong but she carries herself like a porcelain doll—fragile and breakable. Sakura was protective of the smaller girl and all she felt like doing right then was taking her away and running. They were two girls that grew up too fast, sixteen and on a ship to war—flak jackets and Alliance hitai-ate with lost love branded on their skin.

"Ready?" she asks in a whisper and Hinata's silver eyes glow white under the sunshine.

She shakes her head and looks around. "I—I just… Feel like this war could have been evaded."

"All wars can be evaded," Sakura says, shrugging. "We're pretty stupid people—but don't worry."

"I can't help it."

"I'll keep you safe."

Hinata stares at her and Sakura smiles, knowing their positions would be different and knowing that blood would soak them both anyway.

.

.

.

They share a small tent. The army isn't scheduled to set out until dawn of the following morning, giving the Genin time to evacuate the village and leave it bare and empty by the time they were to set off to the battlefield.

They drink tea and talk in hush voices about things that could not matter anymore—the dango shop by the entrance of the village, Ichiraku's and a bench that Sakura felt she owned and was allowed to. Hinata stands up and disappears for a minute or two and Sakura sits and thinks about how it'd feel to clench her dark blue hair around her fist and kiss her mouth until it bruised.

Hinata isn't jaded enough.

Sakura can taint her, she swears she can.

She closes her eyes and rubs the heels of her palms against her eyes and thinks about the levels of fucked up she's reached with the thoughts.

"Sakura?"

She looks up and Hinata is tucking strands of her hair behind her ear, cheeks pink from the night's fresh air. She'd probably gone to wish her team and her father and her brother a goodnight—proper and loving girl that is what Hinata is. Sakura smiles ruefully and thinks about how she doesn't have a team to go and wish a goodnight to; not with one lost and the other one in hiding.

"We should sleep," Sakura mutters and sets her empty tea cup to the side.

Hinata stares at her for a second longer before nodding and hiding under the sleeping bag, pressed close against Sakura for warmth.

.

.

.

.

Sakura watches as Hinata holds Naruto's hands, one of their own dead at their feet and the air thick with a different kind of revenge.

She watches Hinata glow, watches her bare her teeth and clench her fists and all in all ready to destroy everything and make the world bow down to her feet. Naruto could only possibly ever bring out the best in her and Sakura watches as it all happens. She closes her eyes, wishes for some miracle for Neji to come back to life and wishes for this all to end.

But when she opens them, blood is still covering the world, she's still littered with scars and bloody wounds and Hinata is still holding onto Naruto's hand and the obvious look of feeling safe.

She looks away towards the enemy as she thinks, _maybe in another lifetime_.


End file.
